


T.Hanks-Giving With the Barneses

by odetteandodile



Series: Sweater Weather [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes is still really into movies, Bucky's dad is back in action, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Kissing, M/M, Meet the Family, New Relationship, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers is a good boyfriend, Steve Rogers is husband material, Steve Rogers wants to be a dad, Thanksgiving, Tom Hanks movie references, embarrassing family stories courtesy of Becca, holiday feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odetteandodile/pseuds/odetteandodile
Summary: It's been a little over a month since Bucky met Steve at Clint's Halloween party, and three weeks since he realized he's accidentally started dating Captain America.Steve might be a decorated war vet, superhero, and certified badass--but Bucky doesn't think any of that will make much of a difference as they face their scariest mission yet: Meeting the Barneses.Featuring Thanksgiving with Bucky's family, embarrassing childhood stories, fluffy family feels, and Steve Rogers continuing to exceed all of Bucky's expectations in every way he can think of.





	T.Hanks-Giving With the Barneses

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it for November with a whole new holiday! This fic is a sequel to Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater, so give that a shot if you've stumbled here first :)
> 
> I LOVED all of your comments on CCPE and they are ABSOLUTELY what gave life to this continuation. Let me know what you think--I have big dreams now for Christmas if you all like this.

The door to Steve’s building opens at Bucky’s first buzz, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket as he gets on the elevator, rolling his eyes when he sees three new texts in the span of the twenty minutes it took him to walk here. 

**Dad** : _Becca made us start Splash without you. Best to warn Steve. –George_

The auto-signature on his dad’s texts will never not kill Bucky a little inside. The other two are from Becca. 

**Becca** : _T-Hanks waits for no man bro. Mom’s already burned half the sweet potatoes, get ur ass back ASAP._

**Becca** : _Just know if you try to squeeze in a quickie I WILL be able to tell._

Bucky groans internally. It’s only noon and this already feels like it might be the longest day of Bucky’s life. He hopes Steve is adequately prepared for what Thanksgiving with the Barneses is likely to entail—it’s been a long time since Bucky brought a significant other into the madness, and it feels like his family has been saving up all the crazy for him. 

If Bucky’s honest, five weeks of dating is _not_ the mark where he would normally consider things settled enough with somebody to inflict a family holiday on him. But when he’d asked Steve what he was doing for Thanksgiving the answer had been _not sure, probably some laundry_. And what could Bucky say to that?? Steve lives a twenty minute walk from his parents place, and literally Bucky’s entire family has been crawling all over him to bring Steve around since the big “I’m dating Captain America” press conference discovery three weeks ago. Plus Steve’s face had lit up like a damn Christmas tree when he’d asked him to come, so it’s probably worth it. 

And also if he’s _really_ honest, he feels like he’s known Steve a lot longer than that. It definitely doesn’t feel so much like a one month thing with him as maybe a one month going on forever. But Bucky tries not to think _too_ hard on that.

So yes, dating Steve is still pretty fresh, honey-moon glow and all, but it seems like if that bubble is going to be burst either George or Becca Barnes would be the one to do it. Actually his mom is a pretty strong contender too, he thinks wearily. She’ll just do it accidentally with every intention of being nice, which is makes her a dangerous dark horse in the competition to embarrass him in front of his new, hot super-hero boyfriend who he’d really like to keep for a while. 

He raps on Steve’s door feeling a bit put-upon. _This was Steve’s idea as much as yours_ , he reminds himself. _You can’t be held responsible for what he learns this day._

Steve opens the door at once, beaming. 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he says, cheerfully. Bucky groans out loud this time. 

“Aw Buck, it’s fun! This is a happy day. You look nice,” he finishes with a cajoling smile while Bucky glowers. 

“You look nice too,” he grumbles. And it’s true—Steve’s dressed to impress in a handsome blue button down and black slacks, his hair sleek and tidy. “I’m glad we both will look good for our final hours together.” 

Steve snorts, accustomed at this point to Bucky’s dramatics, taking it in stride. “Anybody ever told you you’re kind of a drama-queen?” 

“Only every day of high school, thanks. You ready? I think the tumbril is waiting outside…”

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him. 

“You know…the tumbril? To take us to _la guillotine_?” 

Steve snorts again, this time with an eyeroll for good measure. “Oh my god. You’re a huge dork.” 

“Kiss me Rick! Kiss me as if it were the last time!” Bucky says, holding out his arms. 

Steve shakes his head, tipping forward for a quick, completely uncinematic kiss before walking away into the kitchen. “Not now Ilsa. This is a big day for me, meeting the family.” 

“I knowwww, that’s the point,” Bucky whines. He relents though, with a smile he can’t help when Steve turns back with a massive autumn-colored bouquet of sunflowers and mums. 

“Sucking up to my mom?” Bucky asks with a teasing grin, though to be honest it makes his insides all warm and fuzzy. 

“Yep,” Steve replies, confidently. “Pepper told me it was a good idea to bring a gift to the hostess.” 

“Mmm and what’d Tony say?” Bucky asks, still not really believing that he’s somehow at a place in his life where he refers to Tony-fucking-Stark on a first name basis. Tony has “dropped in” on him _twice_ now in his Stark Tower office, something he’s positive is not a usual occurrence for new employees in one of the companies’ smallest divisions. 

Of course it’s all thanks to Clint fucking Barton and his big mouth—Bucky should’ve known he couldn’t keep it to himself for too long, once it was official. But it’s been…unexpectedly okay, having Captain America as a part of his life as well as just Steve. He’s even been out to the Avenger’s Tower once. It was extremely draining. Steve had had to give him a forty-minute long foot massage when they’d gotten back to his apartment just to revive him from the effort. He’s pretty sure he made a good impression though all things considered. 

“He said ‘tell Buckarooni that you love his mom’s cooking even if it sucks’ which I do not expect to need because I’m sure your mom’s cooking is great.”

Bucky thinks about Becca’s text regarding the burned sweet potatoes and sighs. Then realizes the rest of what Steve has said and pulls a face. 

“Eugh, Buckarooni? Really?” 

Steve shrugs, handing the bouquet off to Bucky to pull on his leather jacket. Now Bucky’s thinking about the other text from Becca, and whether she could _really_ tell if they make out first, just for a little bit…Bucky really likes that jacket. 

“He’s a nicknamer, and honestly you give him a lot to work with…” he finishes with a shit-eating grin. Bucky gasps theatrically. 

“You know what, Steve, just because you have the most generic white dude name ever—” 

He thrusts the flowers back into Steve’s arms, stepping forward a little more into his space than entirely warranted. 

Steve rocks back, laughing, “Hey now! No call to get defensive _Bucky_ —”

“Yes there _is_ call Steve! It’s fucking short for James Buchanan, who was the worst! Literally all he did as President was a bunch of shitty stuff about slavery and got nicknamed ‘doughface’! It’s not my fault it’s a family name because some Barnes asshole at some point was a big-ass racist. Saddled with that wouldn’t you _agree_ that in comparison Bucky is pretty fucking charming??” 

Steve, still chuckling, leans in again to drop a kiss on the tip of Bucky’s nose, which Bucky scrunches. “Yes, of course. I love Bucky.” 

Bucky smirks as he pulls away, “Oh _do_ you now?”

Steve’s face flames instantly crimson, and he stammers, “Oh no! I mean—well I—you know I really—but that’s not what I—”

Bucky cackles at the sheer look of terror on the face of a man who has stared down alien space soldiers single-handed. 

“ _Relax_ Steve, I’m messing with you. I know what you meant.” 

Steve clamps his mouth shut, turning puppy dog eyes on Bucky. “You know I really really like you, right?” 

“Yes, I know you really really like me despite my absurd name and racist ancestory. I really really like you too.” 

Steve heaves a sigh of relief. “Good.” 

“Anyway we’ll see if you still do after you meet George and the rest of the brood.”

“Aw Buck, I’m sure I’ll like your family plenty.” 

Bucky huffs. “We’ll see.” 

Steve relents a little, face softening, and he sets the flowers down on his entry table so that he can scoop Bucky up in his arms for a moment, leaning back against his front door. Bucky sighs and relaxes into him, resting his head on Steve’s broad shoulder. 

“Look, I can’t really tell if you’re actually worried about it but—” Steve hesitates, “don’t be. Even if they’re awful, I won’t hold it against you. But I’m pretty sure they’re not and you’re just being bratty so—”

Bucky cuts him off, pressing up to kiss him hard, then pulls away. “Honestly Steve sometimes you gottta shut that beautiful mouth while you’re ahead. That was so close to reassuring.” 

Steve smirks. “Maybe I like the way you shut me up, and that’s why I do it.” 

“Hmm,” Bucky says, letting his hands wander a little bit under Steve’s hot leather jacket. 

“Uh-uh!” Steve laughs, gripping Bucky’s wrists and pulling them back out of his clothes. “I am not walking into my boyfriend’s family’s Thanksgiving looking like I’ve been ravished.” 

Bucky sighs, but sees the wisdom of that, sadly. He places his hands delicately on top of Steve’s shoulders instead to lean in for one more (entirely appropriate) kiss. 

“In that case, better get marching—excelsior!”

“Lead on,” Steve says, picking up the flowers. 

 

Bucky slows down Steve’s brisk, efficient walking pace as they get within a couple blocks of his parents’ house, trying to be subtle about it as he shortens his steps a bit. The bemused, sideways smirk Steve gives him says it’s not working. 

Steve already seems to know him entirely too well—apparently the guy has a rapid learning curve. While Bucky kept his promise to Steve to take things slow physically at least—they haven’t completely gotten to _know_ each other in the biblical sense despite some delightfully heavy petting—Steve’s been pretty quick to get a handle on Bucky’s expressions and tricks. Steve squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

“Okay, remind me about this movie tradition? Why is it a Thanksgiving thing?”

Bucky sighs, knocking his shoulder into Steve fondly. “It’s Tom Hanks movies—T. Hanks? T.Hanksgiving? Get it? We started it a few years ago once Becca and I got old enough to put our foot down about having to watch interminable football games all freaking day. Or Christmas movies, I guess would be the other alternative. Get a jump on it. But my dad hates that, he’s strict about any Christmas things appearing before the day _after_ Thanksgiving.” 

“Right, right. And what kind of movies does Tom Hanks do?”

“He does it all Steve! That’s the point, something for everybody. We’re missing the one where he finds a mermaid who got turned into a human right now actually, that was Becca’s pick.” 

Steve chuckles, extricating his hand from Bucky’s to loop his arm around his shoulders instead as they turn onto Bucky’s street. 

“Got it. At least I know you come by your movie obsession genetically. And your sister’s husband…his name is Ray?” 

“Yeah. Don’t expect much talking out of him, he usually takes to an armchair like a silent overwhelmed gargoyle for the day. But I dunno, he might end up being your favorite person for that exact reason. He’s really nice, just super shy and quiet, no idea how Becca trapped him…some sort of snare perhaps, or a catfishing situation.”

Steve snorts. “Okay…ready?” They’re in front of Bucky’s house now, so Steve releases him and turns for one last kiss on the sidewalk before they climb the steps. 

“Are you?” 

Steve smiles sweetly, and Bucky melts a little like he always does. “So ready.” 

Bucky unlatches the front door and they make their way into the deceptively quiet front hall, taking off their jackets and hanging them on the rail of hooks. Bucky kicks off his shoes for good measure. 

“Mom _leave it_! He’ll be back soon enough, _god_!” Becca yells, coming around the corner from the living room and latching eyes on the two of them. “Oh thank jesus,” she says at a more normal volume, “ _please_ don’t let mom make the gravy Bucky, dad won’t back me up because he’s bitter he can’t have gravy this year with the heart situation and we need you!” 

“Becca,” Bucky says with only minor exasperation. “This is my boyfriend, Steve.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Steve says, in his demurely charming way. 

Becca grins, sweeping forward to pull Steve into a hug, and Steve looks over her shoulder at Bucky a little surprised but pleased. 

“It’s great to meet you, hon,” Becca says as she pulls away, and Bucky shakes his head. She’s two years older than him but she talks like it’s way more. It’s something about being a mom and a nurse, he thinks. 

“And who’s this?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows with a soft smile. Bucky looks around and finds Becca’s four year old, Sophie, peering wide-eyed around the doorway. 

“Sophie, come’ere and meet Steve!” Becca says, turning too. Sophie’s eyes widen impossibly further, and she instead pulls away from the door, running back into the living room. Becca sighs. 

“I swear to god she hasn’t stopped talking about meeting you all week,” she says, shrugging her shoulders apologetically at Steve. She turns on Bucky again with a wheedling look. “The gravy, Bucky? Please? You know it’s better when you do it…”

Bucky throws up his hands in surrender, though he doesn’t really mind because it is better when he makes it and everyone knows gravy is the most important part of the Thanksgiving meal. “Alright alright I’m coming!”

“I mean the kitchen is also where the wine is,” Becca adds, grinning, and Bucky nods his head fervently. 

He sees Steve hesitate, just a little, so he wraps his hand up again so that they enter the living room side by side. Steve may be an internationally known man of bravery and a superhero, but Bucky figures none of those things really mitigate Meeting the Family jitters. He still can’t really believe Steve likes him enough already for this. 

“Hey everybody—this is Steve,” Bucky announces as heads turn toward them. 

His mom squeals, “Steve!” from the kitchen, dropping the spoon in her hand to run over and pull Steve down into another hug before he can even hand her the flowers. 

“Hi Steve,” Bucky’s dad remarks from the couch, before his eyes move back to the TV. “Nice to have you.” 

Ray gives a little wave and a small smile from his armchair in the corner. 

“Now who is this again?” Bucky hears his grandma as his dad in a not at all quiet voice. “Jamie’s boyfriend? He looks familiar. Have I seen him at church?” 

“Grammy no,” Becca says, shooing Bucky towards the kitchen with a look as she makes her way over to sit beside their grandma on the couch, quietly explaining once again who Steve is. They’ve told her a few times, but it hasn’t seemed to stick. Oh well, Bucky’s glad that if she registered one of the two things they’ve told her, it’s the boyfriend one. She took that surprisingly well all things considered. 

Steve’s cheeks are very pink, giving Bucky a moment’s pause to consider super soldier hearing and what Becca is saying to Grammy about him. Steve turns very deliberately from _that_ conversation, offering his bouquet to Bucky’s mom, who accepts them with a delighted coo. 

“Just beautiful! How thoughtful of you Steve, your mom must’ve raised you a proper gentleman.” 

Bucky groans, covering his face with his hand. “Mooom—”

“What?” Winifred looks at Bucky innocently, “what did I say?”

Steve just laughs, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s nothing Mrs. Barnes—but actually it was Pepper Potts who suggested them. I hope you like them.”

Bucky’s mom smiles comfortably, still apparently not putting two and two together about her gaffe. But Bucky tries to relax his shoulders, since evidently Steve doesn’t seem to mind too much. 

“Ma, gravy? Should I—?” Bucky asks, gesturing to the kitchen. 

“What? Oh—yes, Becca’s all in a state about it, go see what you can do. Can I get you a drink, Steve?” 

“That would be lovely, thank you.” 

Bucky trails his mom around the kitchen counter, pulling on a ridiculous red and white gingham apron before he digs around in a drawer for his supplies. By the time he looks back up and around, Steve has been hustled over into the living room with a glass of white wine in hand, and is sitting between Bucky’s grandma and Becca. Bucky thinks back to the Halloween party, how Steve had stood awkwardly apart from everyone, not quite able to join in—but Bucky supposes one plus side of his family is that they wouldn’t let _that_ happen, anyway. 

Steve looks surprisingly at ease, the only sign of his nervousness in his slightly rounded shoulders, like he does when he’s trying to look smaller and less conspicuous, which isn’t too bad. Maybe all Steve really needs for his shyness is a little bulldozing now and again by people who are immune to awkwardness. It makes Bucky smile as he starts whisking at the drippings in the turkey pan. He’s glad the floor plan of their house is open so he can be in the kitchen but keep his eye on the proceedings. 

He might have talked a lot of shit about it, but seeing Steve seated easily in conversation with his family (while Tom Hanks turns into a merman in the background) makes him all kinds of soft and melty inside. Bucky’s been overseas for the past handful of Thanksgivings himself, as well as most of the Christmases, and he realizes he’d missed this. The house is warm and full of talking and the smell of turkey and good cooking. Bucky takes a minute to sip on his own glass of wine and savor it before diving in to get his hands dirty. 

God, Steve is handsome, he thinks as Steve throws his head back in a laugh at something Becca has said, eyes crinkling and long neck exposed. 

Steve stops laughing as a small figure comes to stand in front of him, Sophie tapping his knee for attention. He looks down at her, face open and serious like little kids love to be looked at, and she holds up her Iron Man action figure for his inspection. Bucky shakes his head. Sophie can be a little hesitant to start off, but once she’s decided she likes you there’s no shaking her. Bucky turns down the heat on the burner, and sets himself to whisking.

The next time he looks up, Sophie has climbed fully into Steve’s lap and seems to be talking at him a mile a minute—Steve looks elated. 

“Bucky, what’s your pick?” his dad calls over the back of the couch, remote in hand. 

“That Thing You Do,” Bucky calls back without looking up from his task—that’s always his first choice of the day. 

A little later, Guy Patterson is just about to outdo Dave Gammelgard and truly, decently kiss Faye as Bucky and his mom finish putting the last of the dishes out on the table. 

“Alright, table everybody!” his mom calls, pulling out her chair. 

There’s a general shuffling and scuffling as his dad turns off the TV and the Barneses plus their hostages (as Bucky likes to think of the non-blood additions) make their way over to the table, Winifred shouting at everyone to refill their glasses before they sit down. 

Becca has to work hard to convince Sophie to relinquish her stranglehold on Steve and sit in her own chair with the extra booster seat, but eventually Sophie relents and Steve moves to sit beside Bucky, squeezing his knee under the table as soon as they’re seated. 

Conversation at the Barnes’ family dinner table is a little bit like an Olympic sport—just as vigorous, just as competitive. Everybody laughing and teasing and dredging up family stories, talking over each other. Plus everybody’s had at least two glasses of wine at this point, so it’s a little raucous. 

Bucky knows this, so he shouldn’t be at all surprised when Becca gives him an extremely sly look across the table before turning to Steve to say, 

“So Steve, has Bucky told you about his own filmmaking career?” 

Bucky groans, and Steve grins. “He has not—was that for a job?”

His family, damn traitors all of them, laugh. Becca shakes her head, eyes gleaming with wicked mirth at Bucky’s expense as only a sister can do. 

“Nope, this was when he was about—oh say eight years old and he decided to make his own versions of movies. Very elaborate. We did Phantom of the Opera, and Titanic, and one I think he wrote himself about a character who suspiciously resembled Batman but was some sort of a—what was he, like a wolf or something?” 

“Sharkman,” Bucky grunts. 

“How did you do Titanic?” Steve asks, looking genuinely curious. Becca cackles. 

“I seem to remember me and Bucky lying on a piece of cardboard painted like a door with dad as the cameraman while mom threw ice cubes at us from off screen—”

“Aren’t those characters like—in love?” Ray pipes up from beside Sophie, a small smile on his face. 

“Et tu, Ray?” Bucky says sadly as he gives Ray a baleful look. 

“Yes they _are_ ,” Becca breaks back in, “just an incestuous Jack and Rose, clinging to life on a piece of cardboard on a blue tarp on the back patio. And let me tell you, Bucky was a real prima donna director too. I remember crying in a wig as he screamed ‘be _better_ Bex, be _more_!’ at me—mom do you have those tapes still…?”

“Maybe in the attic,” his mom muses. 

“Okay _Bex_ ,” Bucky says, shooting a glare at Becca, “let’s remember who starred in most of those _and made her own costuming decisions_ and decide if you _really_ want those tapes dredged up—”

“Directing, writing, starring,” Steve chuckles, finally seeming to get the hang of things and cutting him off before he can finish, “quite the auteur, man of all trades—”

Bucky flings up his hands, “Look, I don’t remember how this—”

Shockingly, it’s Grammy who saves him, piping up for the first time since the family sat down to eat, setting her fork and knife down delicately. 

“You know Georgie,” she remarks, everyone turning to look at her and finding a bit of a cheeky glint in her eye, “I was always pretty relieved for you that Jamie’s hobbies were so artistic, considering I once had to drag you home from the harbor because you’d decided to make your own submarine with an oil drum, convinced that bringing a bicycle pump down with you would mean you couldn’t drown…”

And after that they’re off again, turning on Bucky’s dad as Grammy reminds him of the time he’d also set their basement on fire and a dozen other things. Bucky shakes his head, laughing at the affectionate outrage on his dad’s normally stoic face as his mom thoroughly exposes him. 

Eventually, Steve even breaks in with a few stories of his own childhood escapades, getting in fights at school and from the sound of it generally terrorizing Brooklyn. 

“Wait a minute though,” Becca asks, eyeing him curiously, “weren’t you like…small then? Isn’t that your whole deal…?” 

Bucky flicks his eyes to Steve—so far his family has done a pretty decent job of just treating him like _Steve_ and not _Captain America_ whose story they’d all studied in eighth grade history class. But Steve just grins. 

“Yeah well, never said I won any of ’em. That’s how I got the black eyes usually.” 

Bucky’s mom gives a horrified motherly gasp before they all move on again, his grandma asking Steve some obscure question about Brooklyn when he was a kid—when _they_ were kids? Weird. Bucky doesn’t linger too long on that thought, it’s too trippy. 

But it’s nice, now that he’s more or less filled up with turkey and stuffing and gravy and wine, feeling full and satisfied, listening to all the familiar stories but hearing them from Steve’s point of view like they’re all new. And getting to hear Steve tell his own, jumping into the fray with an easy confidence now that he’s loosened up and inured a little to the madness. He lets it wash over him for a few moments, reveling in the warmth of Steve’s shoulder which at some point had leaned into his and stayed there. 

They all linger for a while over their empty plates with their wine, everybody agreeing to put off pie until First Dinner has the chance to digest a bit. Bucky had always thought it was weird as a kid that Thanksgiving “Dinner” was served at like three o’clock, but as an adult he appreciates why—it’s a marathon meal, not a sprint. But eventually Sophie starts kicking her heels and pleading to be released from the table to go play.

“So who’s up for Saving Private Ryan?” 

“Dad!” Bucky exclaims, horrified, shooting up from his slumped posture in his chair to glare at him. His dad gives him an unrepentant “what?” look and Bucky widens his eyes meaningfully, jerking his head at Steve. 

“But it’s my turn to pick,” his dad says sullenly. 

“ _Dad_.” Bucky says again. They are so _not_ going to watch a super depressing World War Two movie with his _actual_ World War Two vet boyfriend, god. 

His dad heaves a beleaguered sigh, stalking toward the couch. “Fine. Apollo 13 then.” 

“Whatever.” 

Bucky sinks again in his seat, not quite willing to stand yet, even to make his way to the couch. Suddenly his face is getting taken over by a jaw-cracking yawn. 

“Oof.” He says, shaking his head once it’s passed. “Anybody care if some of us need a tryptophan nap for an hour or two?”

“You go ahead honey, take Steve with you, he looks done in—” his mom says.

Steve begins to protest politely, and Bucky agrees he looks nothing of the sort, but he grabs Steve’s hand anyway, pulling him from the table. 

Behind him he hears Becca whine, “Umm so no help on the dishes from Bucky then?”

“We cooked, you clean Rebecca, that’s the deal. This is all you and dad,” Winifred replies, and Bucky shoots Becca a smirk over his shoulder. She sticks her tongue out at him. Honestly, sometimes she acts like she’s fifty, and other times you’d swear she’s ten. 

“Come on,” Bucky says in a low voice, “I’m upstairs.”

He pulls Steve by the hand up to the second story, down to the end of the hall to his bedroom. Becca, Ray, and Sophie will probably head back to their own place later tonight, but he sees through the open door of the den that his mom had set up the pull-out sofa for them just in case. 

Bucky’s grateful, closing the door of his little room after ushering Steve into the space, that he’s had a bit of time since moving back to live here to de-kidify the place. There’s still some odd leftovers scattered about from his childhood years—some Science Fair ribbons, a stack of comic books, and a rather embarrassing Indiana Jones poster—but at least he’s got grown up bedding instead of the Looney Toons. 

Bucky sinks down on the edge of his bed with a groan. 

“You’re really not tired?” he asks Steve, rubbing at his full stomach. 

Steve shrugs, smiling slightly. “I can’t get drunk, can’t feel caffeine so…guess turkey works the same?” 

“Ah,” Bucky says, scooting to the edge of his twin bed (one of the things he _hasn’t_ upgraded for his adult status yet) so that he’s on the half next to the wall, waving Steve to sit down. “Well how about marathon family time? That have any effect?”

Steve unties his shoes, placing them tidily beside the bed before kicking his heels up to lean back against the headboard. He chuckles softly. “Yeah, guess I could stand a little break.” 

He smiles down at Bucky, who peers up at his blearily from his pillow. “So get comfy already,” he commands. Steve huffs, but scoots down the bed too, turning over to wrap Bucky up in his arms, the small bed really demanding they spoon in order to fit—as if they wouldn’t otherwise. Steve’s breath is warm and steady and comforting on the back of his neck. 

“Hey Steve?” Bucky says after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

“Yeah Buck?” Steve asks softly by his ear. 

“I know I gave you a hard time but…I’m really glad you’re here.” 

He feels Steve’s mouth curl into a smile against his neck. “Me too.” 

“I know it’s…kind of a lot. And you don’t really do being around lots of people if you can help it so…”

Steve shakes his head minutely, tightening his arm over Bucky’s waist to pull him in closer. “This isn’t just people—it’s your family. That—it means a lot to me. That you asked, that you wanted me here and that they wanted me here—nobody’s even said the words ‘Captain America’ all day to me. They’ve just treated me like your boyfriend. It’s…nice. Not really something I…thought I’d get, I guess.” 

Bucky feels his throat tightening up a little, so he does what he usually does and redirects, joking, “Ah, well. Being my boyfriend in this house is possibly more dangerous than being Captain America so…”

Steve’s small laugh ghosts across Bucky’s cheek. “Can’t fool me Barnes, I know you love ’em. I see right through you.”

Bucky laughs too, an almost soundless chuckle. “Yeah, guess you must.” 

They subside again into sleepy silence. From directly below Bucky can hear the sound of the television and muffled voices talking, the occasional crash of a dish. With Steve’s hearing he can probably keep track of the whole movie, Bucky thinks. But this moment feels like a cozy bubble of respite just for the two of them. 

Bucky doesn’t quite manage to fall asleep despite his intentions of taking a turkey nap, but he does drift a little, letting the warmth of Steve’s arms and the low sounds of bustling movement wrap around him like a blanket. 

Eventually he blinks himself back to full wakefulness, stretching out his back so that it gives a couple of satisfying pops. He turns around in Steve’s arms, so that he can face him. Steve looks back at him, happy and a little sleepy, his face a tad pillow-creased. 

“Tell me something true,” Bucky says, with a half-smile. Steve grins back, closing his eyes for a moment to think. 

It’s something Bucky started asking, half teasing but half serious after he realized that he’d somehow missed one massive facet of Steve’s life those early weeks. And Steve, feeling guilty probably and as penance, always answers earnestly. And what started out as giving Steve a hard time about the press conference fiasco has actually turned into one of Bucky’s favorite things—getting to know Steve a little at a time as he gives Bucky pieces of himself that Bucky might not have otherwise even thought to ask. 

“Mmm.” Steve says, considering. “You know, it was just me and my mom, growing up. But I always sort of—I wondered what it would be like to grow up like this, with lots of people around, siblings and family that meant more than just one person. I was always sorta jealous of this.” He speaks into Bucky’s hair, ruffling it where Bucky’s head rests on his chest. 

Bucky thinks that over. Then another thought occurs to him. He swallows, not really sure if he should ask what he wants to but…he’s gonna do it anyway. 

“Do you…would you want a—a big family one day then? Of your own, I mean?”

Bucky tries not to tense waiting for Steve’s answer, knowing Steve would notice immediately. And he chides himself a little—here he is yet _again_ initiating a “this is probably too soon for this” thing for the day. But he really is curious about Steve’s answer, regardless of whether it…could also have an impact on him, necessarily, down the road if…yeah. 

Steve sighs and wraps his arms more securely around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky darts a quick glance up and he can see that Steve’s decidedly blushing. 

“Uh…yeah. I think I—I mean I don’t know. My life isn’t exactly—there hasn’t been a good reason to think that might ever be possible for me. But now I—I think I would. If I could. I’ve always loved kids and…I don’t know.”

“Oh.” Bucky says, trying to keep his tone light. “Okay.” He chews his lower lip, hesitating. Then he decides in for a penny, in for a pound. “Me too. I mean—I liked having Becca. Liked growing up with stuff always going on. I always thought that’s what I’d want for myself one day—you know, if it happens.”

Steve just hums an answer, but doesn’t say more. Bucky is grateful. Having the “do you want kids” conversation was _not_ on his agenda for the day. He’s not sure if he’s surprised by Steve’s answer. He’s still grappling, really, with the concept that Steve is Captain America as well as just being himself, and what that means. Bucky _had_ confessed to Steve, after he was done ribbing him, that he was actually pretty glad too that they’d met and first gotten to know each other before he had any idea of that. It makes it easier to let that fade into the background of Steve-being-boyfriend, which has been fucking fantastic. 

He lets himself think, just for a minute, about Steve-his-boyfriend sitting on the couch with Sophie piled in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as she chattered about her favorite game to play with her friends at school and whatever else and the attentive look on Steve’s face as he’d listened. And okay, that’s…that’s something to ponder later. Turns out Steve-his-boyfriend, in addition to being extremely hot and smart and fun, might kinda be husband material. 

Bucky sighs, glancing at the clock over his door. He thinks he might just about be recovered enough for pie eating now. 

“Guess we should go down, huh?”

Steve tightens his arms around him, “Five more minutes?”

Bucky grins, lifting his head to look at Steve. “Mr. I’m-not-tired over here.” 

“I’m not,” Steve replies. His eyes drop to Bucky’s mouth. 

“That right?” Bucky asks, voice pitched low. 

Bucky leans up and presses his mouth to Steve’s. Hovering over him, it’s easy to control the pace, and he kisses him playfully, a series of soft, light brushes of their lips even as Steve chases his mouth for more. Finally, Steve grips the back of Bucky’s neck, pulling him down and sweeping his tongue into Bucky’s mouth and Bucky gives in readily, dropping the pretense of teasing as the kisses deepen. 

Pretty soon he finds himself straddling Steve on the bed with his hands in Steve’s hair as Steve kisses him breathless. Steve kisses like a dream—every time it’s like he’s putting his whole focus into it, the attention intoxicating. Steve’s hands slide to grip onto Bucky’s hips, and Bucky can’t help the small noise that escapes him as he feels his body heating at the touch. 

Steve breaks away, panting a little and looking sheepish, “I—sorry—you’re just really cute with pillow hair, didn’t mean to get carried away—”

Bucky ducks his head, a hand going to smooth his hair down self-consciously. “Well…thanks. You’re cute all the time, so.” 

Steve laughs, and then in a motion Bucky can’t track he rolls them over so their positions are reversed, Steve on top of him bracketed between his legs as he kisses up Bucky’s throat. 

Bucky moans again, he can’t help it. But he keeps it quiet at least. Then he laughs, a little breathy. “Jesus if I’d known you’d get turned on by being in a twin surrounded by my old school notebooks I’d’ve brought you over sooner—”

Steve shuts him up with another long, lingering kiss, and Bucky’s breathing heavily when he pulls away again, eyes opening slowly as he savors it. Steve’s looking up at him flushed, eyes dark and intent. 

“I know I asked you to take it slow but—fuck, I wanna take you to bed,” Steve says, voice husky but face sincere. 

Bucky’s thighs tighten around Steve’s and he laughs again helplessly. “Alright—shit we got time, whatever you say,” he says. He’s…mostly joking. 

Steve shakes his head, laughing too. But his tone is heated when he says, “Not—not this bed. I’m not done taking it slow with you. When we do this I wanna do things with you without having to look your mom in the eye after…” He runs his hand suggestively down Bucky’s side, pushing down with the heel of his hand against Bucky’s hip so that Bucky’s head tips back against the pillow of its own accord. 

“Fuck Steve—okay, yes, point taken. I—” he clears his throat, trying to compose himself a little with how much Steve’s voice is turning him on right now. “I would be very amenable to that. But I’m gonna need you to stop talking like, _now_ if you’re not gonna follow through immediately so I can get my shit together for pie with my grandma—you asshole.” 

Steve grins, rolling to the side of Bucky so that they’re lying side by side again instead of with their hips locked together close enough to be too tempting. Bucky takes several steadying breaths. Then he turns his head to glare at Steve. 

“You’re a dick, Rogers,” he says, smacking him on the shoulder. Steve honest-to-god giggles. 

“Sorry,” Steve says, not looking remotely sorry at all. Then he bites his lip, hesitating, before looking back up. “Pack a bag to stay with me this weekend?”

Bucky nods, mouth feeling a little dry. “Yeah—shit of course.” 

Steve smiles sweetly, face lighting up, and Bucky shakes his head with a huff. 

“Good,” Steve says, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed to straighten his shirt and fix his finger-tousled hair. He looks at Bucky, still sprawled and feeling a bit disconnected from his limbs at the moment. “What was this I heard about pie?”

Bucky smacks a pillow across Steve’s dumb, grinning face. 

 

Eventually they make it back downstairs, in time for the triumphant re-entry of the Apollo 13 crew and Ed Harris’ confusingly hot white vest. Bucky’s pretty proud of himself, as he dishes two slices each of pumpkin and French apple for him and Steve, that he definitely got his hair rearranged and nothing looks amiss. 

From over the back of the couch Becca catches his eye. Her eyes flick up to his hair, down his shirt, and back with eyebrows raised.

She smirks mercilessly at him well into the first hour of You’ve Got Mail. 

Huh, Bucky thinks—she really _could_ tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as ever to my best pal, alpha, and beta [@calendulae](https://calendulae.tumblr.com/) (who also happens to curate an excellent tumblr feed, so check her out!)
> 
> And you can find me on tumblr as well, [@odette-and-odile](http://odette-and-odile.tumblr.com/) where I would love to hear from you :)


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